A Visit to St Cloud's
by Broedy
Summary: The Cider House Rules Sequel to the movie. Homer Wells is resident physician at St. Cloud's just as Dr. Larch always wanted him to be. But memories of his other life aren't very distant, especially when unexpected visitors come calling.
1. Chapter 1

**C****hapter One**

St. Cloud's Orphanage, Maine  
December 1950

* * *

_I was the boy who belonged to St. Cloud's. As a man, it turns out, not much has changed. _

_I took my place as resident physician at the orphanage five years ago, despite a lack of formal qualifications. The fact I have never been to college, or high school for that matter, meant little to my predecessor, Dr. Wilbur Larch. He was my teacher, my mentor, and the only father I ever knew._

_To say St. Cloud's had a hold over me is not quite right. Instead I have been beholden to the people – the children, the staff, but mainly Dr. Larch. He is the reason I am here. He is the reason I am a doctor at all._

_Dr. Larch once said I would never find a more fulfilling life than at St. Cloud's. I only ventured out into the world once, but those two years came close. At least, I thought so at the time. Due to certain circumstances I found myself back where I belonged, taking over Dr. Larch's role as caretaker of many and father of none._

_Occasionally I catch myself thinking of the time when I wasn't at the orphanage – the brief period of my life where I was free of St. Cloud's and my responsibilities there. I wonder what my life would have been like had I not returned here… if those certain circumstances were different. But for the most part I am contented, knowing that I am needed here, that the children and women who pass through these doors are better off because I am._

_Dr. Larch was right._

* * *

The young woman fidgeted in her seat as she waited for Homer Wells to read over the notes the nurse had given him in a plain, brown folder. She forced herself to stay in her seat, when her instinct was to run. But running away would not solve her predicament, and she couldn't hide it for much longer. She wished the doctor would hurry up so it could be done. Then she could go back to her life as it was before the momentary lapse in judgment which had landed her here. 

Homer finished reading through the list of vitals that Nurse Angela had taken, then looked up to meet the frightened eyes of the young woman. He had seen that same look countless times. It was always the same, even in the women who pretended they weren't affected by their surroundings, that the sound of children playing outside or the babies crying in the nursery had no effect on them. But they could not hide the deep seated fear, regret and anger that was revealed in their eyes. And for that, Homer was grateful. It was the only reason he could continue doing what he was doing.

"Everything will be alright, Miss Bramley," he stated calmly.

"No one has said anything about money," she said abruptly, then paused as her cheeks colored. "What I mean is, I don't know how much to pay."

"There's no charge for the procedure. But if you'd like to make a donation to the orphanage, we would appreciate it. Only if you're able."

The young women breathed a sigh of apparent relief, then nodded. Homer got up from behind his desk and ushered her to the door.

"Nurse Angela will take you to get changed and I'll be along shortly," said Homer.

The frightened look in the woman's eyes returned.

"Now?" she faltered.

"You've got nothing to be scared about. We'll take good care of you."

Homer opened the door and nodded for Nurse Angela to take her.

"Come along, dear," Angela said, taking her by the arm with her cheerful but professional manner.

Homer watched them leave then returned to his desk to collect the patient's chart. On his way to the room where he would perform the necessary procedure, he stopped to stare at the medical diploma which graced his office wall. The certification was completely fabricated, painstakingly recreated by Dr. Larch's own hand. Homer mused, not for the first time, that it was a wonder he had not been exposed as a fraud. Thorough as his training had been at Dr. Larch's side, he had no formal qualifications as a doctor. He was waiting for the Board of Trustees to discover the ruse and turn him out of St. Cloud's, or worse, have him arrested. But the Board were very contented with their young doctor and no one had any cause to suspect him for anything other than a Harvard educated physician. Even if he looked incredibly young for his 35 years (a good seven years older than his actual age).

The fact Homer continued to perform abortions at St. Cloud's was kept secret from the Board, or if some of them suspected, they did nothing about it. Maybe Dr. Larch was right, maybe it was a necessary service he was performing. It didn't mean Homer felt any better about it, but at least he knew that he was helping. He was, as Dr. Larch had always wanted, being of use in this life.

Homer stopped by the new mothers' ward on his way to the operating room, checking on his most recent delivery. The woman was recovering well, at least physically. Emotionally was a different story, as silent tears streamed down her face. By the end of the week she would be gone, her baby daughter left behind. Another orphan for St. Cloud's. Homer wondered if this baby would remain with them, to grow up with brothers and sisters of all ages who were, in reality, no relation. Or would she be adopted by loving parents before she ever came to realize where she had come from? He could never predict it – some children, like himself, became life-long orphans. Others were raised away from St. Cloud's… the lucky ones, he supposed. But Homer rarely thought of them that way, because he didn't feel unlucky himself, and never had. He certainly didn't want the children of St. Cloud's to feel that way. They just a had different, larger family, that was all.

He left the ward and was almost bowled over by three young boys racing down the corridor.

"What are you doing up here?" Homer asked, trying for a chastising tone but failing.

The boys were puffing, out of breath, and spoke over the top of each other to explain the epic game of chasey that was currently underway.

"There you are!" bellowed Curly, who had appeared at the top of the stairs. The fourteen-year-old, one of the eldest boys still at the orphanage, ran over them.

"I told you this floor was out of bounds. Don't you listen?" he growled, pulling the three of them away. He glanced at the doctor who was smiling in amusement. "Sorry, Homer."

"That's okay. Try and keep it down, alright?"

Curly nodded and pulled the boys roughly away. They escaped his grasp and bolted for the stairs, yelling loudly. Curly grimaced at Homer and ran after them.

Homer continued down the corridor and entered the nursery. The newborn girl was asleep in her crib, a tiny red-faced being wrapped tightly in her swaddling blanket. Homer checked her chart and noted she had not yet been named.

"We were waiting for you," came a voice from the corner.

Homer looked up to see Mary Agnes cuddling another baby to her white uniformed-chest. Another life-long orphan, she had remained at St. Cloud's long after she could have left to make her way in the world, choosing instead to take on nursing duties to assist Angela and Edna. The latter, the stalwart of St. Cloud's, was retiring in the new year, so Mary Agnes was assuming many of Nurse Edna's duties. Like Homer, she was not formally trained, but had been taught by two of the most devoted nurses St. Cloud's could ever have.

"It's your turn to name her," Mary Agnes continued as she rocked the baby boy in her arms.

"It is?" replied Homer, returning his attention to the infant. "Let's see then… How about Katherine?"

He glanced at Mary Agnes for her approval, and after receiving a slight nod in response, touched his fingertip to the baby's forehead.

"I name you little Katherine." He smiled to himself over the familiar St. Cloud's ritual. If the baby was adopted young enough the parents would probably change her name. But for now, she was Katherine.

The baby in Mary Agnes's arms started fussing.

"Shh, Wilbur. You've been fed and now it's time to sleep," she said.

Homer was surprised when Mary Agnes had chosen that name for the boy. There had been an unspoken rule at St. Cloud's for the past five years that they would not name any of the babies after Dr. Larch. He didn't know if they refrained from doing so to protect their own feelings or simply because, over the years, there had been an abundance of babies named Wilbur at St. Cloud's and it could get confusing. But Mary Agnes had been insistent and, when questioned over her choice, simply stating that the boy looked like a Wilbur. She had been his primary caretaker since assisting Homer with his delivery two months earlier. For whatever reason, Mary Agnes felt an especially close bond with the baby, despite being old enough to know that he might be adopted at any time and taken from her.

Mary Agnes had always looked after the other children. For many years she was, just as Curly was now, the eldest of the orphans, and took the little ones under her wing. Of all the children at St. Cloud's, Mary Agnes had seemed like the sort to leave the orphanage as soon as she was old enough. She had certainly made plans to that effect over the years. But after Dr. Larch's death and Homer's return, her demeanor had changed. The once overly emotional girl had quieted into a responsible young woman who chose to stay and help where she was needed. Like Homer, she belonged to St. Cloud's.

Of course, Homer reflected, he had influenced her decision to stay, however inadvertently. At least, it had been inadvertent at first, when Mary Agnes first developed a hopeless crush on him. He hadn't encouraged her in any way before he left St. Cloud's, nor when he returned two years later. But then he was used to having her there, and appreciated having someone to talk to nearer his own age. After Buster left the orphanage they had grown even closer.

Despite living under the same roof as several dozen orphans and a small smattering of staff, Homer had been lonely. He missed Dr. Larch. He missed his friends at Cape Kenneth – Rose Rose, Peaches, Muddy, Hero, even Jack. He missed Wally and, of course, he missed Candy. But they were part of his other life, the one outside St. Cloud's. He was back where he belonged, and Mary Agnes was there too. When she started showing an interest in nursing he was happy to teach her, to share books and articles with her that he thought she might like. Not surprisingly, Mary Agnes fell even more in love with him than before, and Homer had surprised them both by asking her to marry him a year ago.

"How's he doing?" Homer asked, feeling baby Wilbur's forehead and cheek which was still a little flushed with fever.

"He's fine, still a little fussy. He's been breathing easier today," Mary Agnes said, not taking her eyes off the baby.

"Good," Homer said, relieved that the boy was on the mend. Mary Agnes had stayed up with him for two nights when his fever was high, refusing to leave him.

"I have a procedure," he commented quietly, before replacing baby Katherine's chart and heading for the door.

"Do you want some help?" Mary Agnes called after him.

Homer paused, his back to her. "No, that's alright. Angela's with her."

He didn't know why he continued to protect his wife from the realities of his job. She knew he performed abortions, and had even watched him do a number of D&Cs during her training. But he never asked for her assistance now and, even though she continued to offer, she never asked why he was always refused. Homer suspected Mary Agnes was grateful for this, though they didn't discuss it.

"I'll see you at dinner," he said, smiling over his shoulder at her.

Mary Agnes returned her gaze to Wilbur and smiled too.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"…_'I regret to inform you I am no longer able to accept the position of teacher at St. Cloud's…'_" read Angela, before dropping the letter onto the table with a disappointed sigh. "We'll never get anyone to start in time now. Lessons are supposed to resume right after Christmas."

"We'll just have to advertise the position again," said Edna sagely. She poured three cups of coffee and handed one to Angela and Homer.

"We don't mind not having no classes," offered a grinning Simon from the next table. A small group of the orphans had been eavesdropping on the adults' conversation, and cheered at Simon's comment.

Angela threw Homer an exasperated look. "That's precisely why we need a good teacher."

"Maybe we'll have to send the children to regular school in town," said Edna, after reprimanding the boys and reminding them to eat all their vegetables.

"And how are we going to do that?" argued Angela hotly. "It's too far to walk and we can't take them all in the truck. When it's working, that is."

"We'll advertise the position again," Homer said. He sipped his coffee, waiting for Angela's retort.

"How are we supposed to get a teacher who'll work for this salary? This is the third time we've had to replace the position in two years."

"Maybe the Board would consider raising it."

"And are you going to ask them?" Angela raised an eyebrow at him.

"Maybe I will," Homer replied lightly, which only infuriated Angela further.

"We shouldn't have to ask. Lord knows we do our best with what little we're given, but surely the Board can see we just don't have enough…"

Homer placed his cup on the table and cleared his throat. "I'll talk to them. We'll get the money."

The ire drained from Angela when she saw the quiet resolve in his eyes. When Homer looked like that she couldn't help but think of Wilbur Larch. She knew he would be proud to see what sort of man Homer turned out to be, how he had taken over the running of St. Cloud's as if he were born to do it. Angela wondered if maybe he was at that.

Mary Agnes entered the dining room and took her seat opposite Homer. Sensing the tension in the air she glanced between Nurse Angela and her husband and was relieved to see the older woman pat Homer on the hand, then get up to see to the children.

"Are the babies asleep?" Edna asked her, pretending nothing was wrong. She found it difficult not thinking of Mary Agnes as one of the children she'd raised, rather than a grown, married woman.

"They are now," replied Mary Agnes tiredly. Her long nights with baby Wilbur were catching up with her.

"Your supper's warming in the oven."

"Thanks." Mary Agnes stood to retrieve it, but Edna made her sit down again. She smiled down at the young woman and disappeared into the kitchen to get it for her.

"You look like you could fall asleep at any moment," Homer said, a smile twitching the corner of his mouth.

"I'm fine. Besides, it's movie night." Mary Agnes made a point of sitting up straighter and blinking her sore eyes a few times to get them focusing properly.

"You should sleep. I can take care of movie night."

"You just want me out of the way so you can pull out King Kong again," she said with a wry grin.

The orphanage had a much larger collection of films than in earlier days, but Homer would still insist on showing the old movie regularly on a Saturday night, ignoring the groans of protest from the younger children. Only Curly supported him in his endeavor to show the classic a few times a year. Both of them would think of Fuzzy when they watched it, and it was still their favorite.

"I was concerned with your welfare, actually," Homer said with mock hurt in his voice.

"Of course you were."

Edna arrived with Mary Agnes's dinner, then left again to check on the patients upstairs.

"What were you talking about when I came in?" she asked as she began to eat.

Homer sighed and touched the letter on the table with his finger. "Mr. Sperling won't be joining us in the new year after all. He's taken another position in Boston."

"What are we going to do?"

"I'll take care of it. I'll just have to tell the Board of Trustees that the salary we're offering isn't enough to secure a teacher. They have to increase it."

"I bet they'll love hearing that," Mary Agnes said darkly. She looked around the dining room, taking in the dark smudges along two of the walls where rising damp was discoloring the plaster. There were plenty of ways money could be spent at St. Cloud's, but they were still waiting for more funds from the Board. She frowned into her meal.

"Don't worry, Maggie, we'll be fine," Homer said quietly, using the rarely-spoken nickname he'd given her soon after they were married. It had delighted her at the time, her eyes lighting up as if he had given her a precious gift. But he used it sparingly, and only when they were alone. Mary Agnes seemed contented by this, as if it were their secret.

"I know we will," she replied.

Christmas was still a few weeks away, and it would be frugal as far as presents were concerned. Each of the children would receive one gift – donations from the church folk who had no idea of the extent of medical services available at St. Cloud's – but it was still one of the happiest times at the orphanage. Sometimes Mary Agnes would dream about having enough money to really splurge and get everything for the children she had always wanted herself. But those thoughts were always fleeting – it was no good wishing for something that would never be.

She stifled a yawn. "Maybe I will go to bed early, after all. Will you ask Angela to read to the girls instead?"

Homer nodded and placed his hand briefly over hers to wish her goodnight. He rose from the table to get the movie ready, calling to the children to gather their plates. Mary Agnes sighed as she watched him go about his regular Saturday night ritual, wishing that, just once, it could be theirs alone. But like an extravagant Christmas, some dreams would just never be.

* * *

The next evening, after the children were all in bed, Homer sat by the fire in the small living room he and Mary Agnes shared. Edna had insisted the young married couple have some space of their own, and Dr. Larch's old office had been converted to include a second hand settee and chairs whose arms were covered in crocheted doilies to hide the wear to the fabric. The small bedroom next door was the only other space that was their own – bathroom facilities were shared with Angela and Edna and everyone ate their meals together in the dining room. The living room was a tranquil retreat in an otherwise noisy and crowded existence. 

Homer spent his evenings there, catching up on medical journals and reading his beloved Dickens. Mary Agnes was constantly surprised by his ability to sit in silence night after night. They never went into town – couldn't, in case Homer was needed. They had never even taken a honeymoon after the civil ceremony when they'd wed, with only Angela and Curly in attendance. There was no doctor to take Homer's place even if they'd had the money to take a trip somewhere. So Mary Agnes soon learned to just appreciate the time they had alone, even if they spent it in the same draughty room at St. Cloud's.

"When are you seeing the Board?" she asked, breaking the oppressive silence that Homer relished. He did not respond immediately.

"Hmm?" he murmured eventually, when he felt her dark eyes on him. "What was that?"

"The Board? When are you seeing them about the teacher's salary?" she repeated, biting back her impatience.

"Ah, Thursday afternoon." Homer had not looked up from his medical journal.

Mary Agnes flipped through the appointment book in her lap and noted that he'd failed to list the Board meeting. With a sigh she added it herself, then familiarized herself with the appointments for the next few days.

"There are two adopting couples coming in – one tomorrow and another on Tuesday," she said, trying to engage him in conversation.

"Hmm?"

"Guess folks are picking up their children just in time for Christmas. Time for happy families." The bitterness creeping into voice went unnoticed. "Walter and Ethel Burbidge. They're coming in tomorrow. Apparently they're looking to adopt two children. Angela's hoping they'll take the twins so they can stay together."

Homer was engrossed in the article he was reading and did not appear to hear her.

"Wally and Candy Worthington. I wonder what they're looking for. I only spoke to the husband but I'm guessing Mrs. Worthington's after a young one. They usually are. It's the husbands who want the older boys to help out on the land."

She looked up and was surprised to see Homer was staring at her.

"What?" she said.

"What did you say that name was?" Homer said mechanically, his gaze unwavering.

Mary Agnes glanced down at the book. "Worthington. Wally and Candy. They're coming on Tuesday."

Homer's eyes returned to his journal but he did not resume reading. He stared at the paper in his hands, unable to comprehend any of it.

"Do you know them?" Mary Agnes asked, curious at his reaction.

When Homer shook his head slightly she said nothing more, but knew there was something bothering him. After a few minutes he laid the journal aside and stood up.

"I'm going upstairs to check on the children," he murmured.

"Angela's already been, they're fine…"

But Homer ignored her and slipped out of the room, still in his socks. He did not return to their room until she was already in bed, trying to stay awake. Without a word he changed into his pajamas and got into bed beside her. Mary Agnes waited for him to speak, to share what was on his mind, but he just settled under the covers and kept his back to her.

"Is everyone alright?" she ventured.

"They're fine. Everyone's asleep," he mumbled into his pillow.

Mary Agnes swallowed a sigh and turned off the lamp at her bedside. She lay still for a moment, listening to Homer breathe, before turning towards him, her arm draping over his waist. She snuggled closer, feeling how cold he was against her warm chest. She smiled in the darkness as Homer's hand found hers and he drew it closer to him. He would tell her eventually, whatever was bothering him. Though taciturn in nature, Homer rarely dwelled on anything for long. When he was ready to talk she'd be there to listen.

* * *

But Homer didn't talk – the usually quiet man was withdrawn throughout the next day and barely spoke to anyone. He even refrained from reading to the boys that night, or leading them in another St. Cloud's ritual where they would say a special goodnight to the child who'd been adopted that day. This time they had said goodbye to two of their children – the six-year-old twin boys who had been with them for over a year had been taken in by the couple who'd arrived at St. Cloud's. Angela was pleased that the boys, whose mother had died from influenza and who'd been abandoned at the orphanage by their father who'd decided he couldn't cope with two sons on his own, had finally found a new family. 

"Let us be happy for Michael and Matthew. They have found a family," Nurse Angela said as she tucked in the last of the girls in their attic room. "Goodnight, Michael. Goodnight, Matthew."

The girls repeated the words and then Angela waited by the door until everyone was still before switching out the light. She made her way to the floor below where she found Mary Agnes in the nursery with Wilbur.

"Is Homer still working?" she asked as she checked on baby Katherine who was sound asleep.

"I don't know, I think he's downstairs." Mary Agnes was sitting in the rocking chair by the window, even though there was no view to look at. Outside there was only inky blackness – even the stars had abandoned them.

Angela didn't comment on Mary Agnes's sullen tone, guessing that the young couple had fought since both she and Homer had seemed out of sorts all day. She knew it must be hard for them, living in the orphanage. It certainly wasn't the normal situation for married people to find themselves in. Relationships were hard under the best of circumstances, but she knew better than anyone how St. Cloud's had a way of always coming first with the men who were charged with its care. It had certainly been that way with Dr. Larch and herself.

"He's probably just worried about the Board meeting on Thursday," she suggested.

Mary Agnes rolled her eyes in such a way that reminded Angela of when she was an insolent teenager. She smothered a smile, knowing it would only make Mary Agnes withdraw into her bad humor even more if she suspected she was being laughed at.

"Why don't you go talk to him. Wilbur's fine for the evening."

Mary Agnes looked up from the baby, reluctant to take Angela's advice. She knew that had more to do with avoiding her husband than missing the little boy, but Mary Agnes was at a loss to know what to do when Homer was so withdrawn. In the end she decided she had to talk to him eventually, so she handed the baby over to Angela and wished her goodnight.

She didn't find Homer in their bedroom or living room, or in his office. She did notice that his snow shoes and coat were gone from their spot by the front door and was surprised that he would have taken a walk on so cold a night. But Mary Agnes admitted there was much about her husband that she didn't understand, or knew how to react to. She was still in a mild state of disbelief that they were even married. Homer had given no real indication he was in love with her before proposing, and in her darkest moments Mary Agnes wondered if he only did it because he thought it was the right thing to do, or because she had wanted it so much.

Still, they _were_ married, and happily so for the most part. Homer had never been overly demonstrative, but she had grown used to his staid demeanor, and accepting of his need for solitude on occasion. She had even come to accept his long absences – if not in body, then in mind. She would often catch him staring out of a window or into the fire, lost in thought. He never told her what he was thinking about so intently, and she was hesitant to ask. Whatever it was it plagued his mind sometimes, and Mary Agnes learned to wait until it had passed and the old Homer returned.

But this time his mood had not lifted all day, and she needed to know why. Figuring she had time before he returned from his walk, she closed his office door behind her and started looking through the files. There were hundreds of files, neatly stored on every mother and child who had passed through their doors. She knew the name Worthington must mean something to Homer. She quickly found the right filing cabinet and sorted through the folders it contained. But there was nothing under Worthington. Mary Agnes let out a frustrated breath. She had nothing else to go on. At least, not until the next day when Mr. and Mrs. Worthington arrived.

Patience had never been one of Mary Agnes's virtues, and she slammed the cabinet door shut with a bang in her displeasure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

On Tuesday the air was heavy and gray, heralding a snow storm. The weather had forced the children indoors, leaving them with pent up energy which manifested itself in loud arguments and the occasional fight which Homer was forced to break up. He was uncharacteristically short with the children, refusing to listen to their explanations and excuses, and banishing them to the empty classroom at the back of the building. He remained at the front where he was able to keep one eye on a window overlooking the drive at all times.

When at last a black spot appeared on the road leading up to St. Cloud's, Homer barked a last warning for quiet, hastily donned his coat and went to stand on the front porch. Mary Agnes, who had been his constant shadow all morning, followed suit and was soon standing beside him in the bitter wind that had come up in the last hour.

"Go on inside, it's freezing out here," Homer said impatiently as he tried to quell the anxiousness that was making his stomach flutter. He tried not to note the thinness of her coat and dismissed the concern about how he could afford to buy her one that actually was effective in the middle of a Maine winter.

"I'm fine," Mary Agnes replied, trying in vain to stop her teeth from chattering as she did so. She knew his suggestion was more of an attempt to get her to leave him alone rather than worry for her health, which she stubbornly refused to do. Not when she was about to discover the reason for his behavior of the past two days.

They watched as an expensive looking black car made its way slowly up the drive, avoiding the ice that could make it a precarious ride. When it finally came to a stop outside the door a fair-haired, broad-shouldered man emerged from the driver's seat, pulling on a woolen coat as he did so. He nodded to Homer and Mary Agnes and moved to the rear of the vehicle. Popping the trunk, he pulled a collapsible wheelchair out and opened it up on the crunchy snow of the path. Only then did the back door open and Homer caught a glimpse of a man in a dark suit. Had Mary Agnes not mentioned the name the day before, he doubted he would have recognized Wally at first glance. Gone was the boyish grin and casual curl of black hair. His face was pallid and stocky, extra weight bulking out his frame underneath his tailored suit and coat. His hair was slicked back and graying at the temples, though he was not much older than Homer.

Wally held out his arms for the driver to lift him into the wheelchair. As he settled into it, a thick blanket tucked around his legs for warmth, the other rear door opened and a willowy blond emerged. If Wally looked different then Candy looked exactly as Homer remembered her, the first time he'd seen her at St. Cloud's. Her blond curls were perfectly coiffed, her scarlet lipstick in stark contrast to her flawless, alabaster skin. She adjusted the stylish hat on her head and buttoned her coat against the wind. Without realizing it, Homer stepped back into the shadow of the porch so she could not see him immediately. From there he was able to watch her unnoticed, at least by Candy. Had he looked at his wife he would have seen Mary Agnes had not missed his reaction.

She thought she could kick herself. Mary Agnes watched the people in front of the orphanage and in a flash she remembered the last time she had seen them – the dark-haired man and the blonde, at least. They were the people Homer had left with, the day her world was shattered when he unexpectedly announced he was leaving St. Cloud's. They had driven a different car that day, and the dark-haired man had been in uniform, not incapacitated. But Mary Agnes would have recognized them anywhere – it was just the name she had not known.

By now Wally was securely in his chair, Candy by his side. Homer forced himself to go down the front steps to meet them.

"Homer," Candy said as soon as she spotted him. Homer grinned in response and accepted her embrace which was brief, but still full of emotion.

"Wally, it's good to see you," Homer said, shaking his old friend's hand.

"You too. It's been a long time." Wally did not smile as he spoke but Homer wondered if he ever did any more. Unfamiliar lines creased his eyes, which dull and shadowed.

"Come on inside," Homer said, unable to think of anything else to say and mindful of the cold. "Can I help?"

"Karl's got me, haven't you, Karl?" said Wally.

"Yes, sir."

Candy led the way onto the porch, smiling briefly at Mary Agnes who only stared in return. Candy turned her attention to Karl who was pulling Wally's wheelchair up the stairs, one jarring step at a time. Luckily there were only half a dozen and then Homer was ushering them inside.

After coats and gloves were dispensed with, Homer led them into their private living room, the most hospitable room on the ground floor. Once inside, after Candy had commented on the decorations, an uncomfortable silence fell. Homer looked around for Mary Agnes but she was no longer there. Karl excused himself to take care of the car, leaving the three old friends alone.

"We brought some preserves and chocolates, and a few other treats. For the children," Candy said awkwardly, motioning after Karl who was charged with their retrieval.

"Thank you," said Homer. He paused, wishing he was better at small talk. "How was the drive?"

Candy had turned to look at the framed pictures the children had drawn of their Dr. Wells and did not respond.

"Well, Karl's the best, and I'm used to sitting these days, so it was a dream," Wally offered instead. Homer did not miss the trace of bitterness in his voice, though he was trying to be jovial.

"You're running this place now, Homer?" Candy asked, turning her proud gaze on him.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her striking blue eyes. "Yeah… yes. Since I came back."

"That doctor we met…" Wally looked to Candy for the name.

"Dr. Larch," she murmured.

"He passed away," Homer said, but did not elaborate.

"Dr. Wells… that's what the nurse called you when we made the appointment," Wally went on, not removing his eyes from Homer. "You've done well for yourself, Homer. We always knew you would, didn't we, honey?"

Candy nodded and looked away again. Homer didn't quite know how to react. Panic gripped him when he thought that maybe Candy had told her husband what went on while he was away at war, and maybe he had come to expose Homer as a fraud. But when a grim smile appeared on Wally's lips Homer realized he was being sincere, even if he was out of practice when it came to joyful emotions.

"Thank you." Homer sat down uneasily after Candy took a seat too. "So, what brings you both here?"

Candy and Wally glanced at each other and Homer blushed at his inane question. Of course he knew why they were there. Candy was spared from answering when Mary Agnes appeared at the doorway, a tray in her hands.

"I thought you might like something hot," she said, handing the tray over to Homer who had risen to help her.

"This is Mary Agnes," said Homer. He set the tray down and took his seat once more.

"Hello. You're a nurse here?" Candy asked, and it was her turn to ask an obvious question.

Mary Agnes tugged at the sleeve of her white uniform and nodded.

"We spoke on the telephone, didn't we?" Wally offered, when she just stood there, apparently waiting for something. She nodded again.

"Mary Agnes is my wife," Homer clarified, having forgotten to add that part in his first introduction.

A strange look crossed Candy's face which disappeared almost soon as Homer glimpsed it. She rose and shook Mary Agnes's hand.

"We had no idea. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mary Agnes," Candy said politely.

"You didn't tell us you got married," Wally said, also shaking the hand of Mrs. Wells.

Homer looked down, embarrassed; it was not something he'd ever considered doing. He had not had any contact with Wally or Candy since receiving the invitation to their wedding six months after Wally returned from the war. He had written them a regretful reply that he would not be able to make it to Cape Kenneth, but wished them the best. That was the last time he had made contact with them.

"How long have you been married?" asked Candy, resuming her seat as Mary Agnes poured them some tea.

"Nearly a year," she said shyly.

Candy laced the tea she'd been given with sugar and milk and handed it to Wally. She accepted another cup of black tea for herself.

"Do you have any lemon?" she asked, and grew embarrassed herself when Mary Agnes stammered an excuse. What was she thinking, asking for lemon in the middle of winter at an orphanage in Maine? Candy was annoyed at her own thoughtlessness.

Mary Agnes poured tea for herself and Homer, then all four were soon seated in the small living room, the ominous ticking of the clock on the mantle the only sound. No one quite knew what to say.

"I guess we should talk about why you're here," Homer tried again. "You're looking to adopt?"

Another glance passed between Wally and Candy.

"Well, the thing is, having children ourselves…" Wally started, but trailed off.

"Yes, we'd like to adopt," finished Candy abruptly to spare her husband any awkwardness.

Homer's face filled with pity as he looked at Candy but, like her, he quickly covered his feelings. It was clear that Wally's condition, a result of the encephalitis he had suffered after being shot down in the jungle, had left him incapable of having children. Homer wondered, not for the first time, what kind of life that meant for Candy, but she had been clear that she would stand by Wally, who needed her. Homer had seen that resolve in her when he realized she would never be his.

"Have you given any thought to what age you'd like the child to be? A boy or a girl?" Homer asked, just as he would any prospective parents.

"Um, we were thinking a boy. A few years old, maybe? We're not sure," Candy said hesitantly. "What do you think, Homer?"

"Well, a boy is fine. We have plenty to choose from." His attempt at levity was lost on them.

"We always wanted to have a boy," Candy said quietly.

Mary Agnes raised her eyes to look at the woman, remembering why she had come to St. Cloud's in the first place all those years ago. Her first instinct was to bring up the fact she had already aborted one child, perhaps she didn't deserve another, but then she thought better of it and even felt guilty for thinking it in the first place. The woman before her, for all her apparent prosperity, had plenty of burdens as well.

"The children will be having lunch soon, you can meet them then," Homer continued.

"And then what happens?" Wally asked.

"Then… you choose which one you want to adopt."

Wally and Candy looked perplexed by this. "We just choose, like a something from a catalog?" said Wally.

"What about the others, the ones we don't choose?" Candy interjected, just as uncomfortable as her husband.

"They'll be alright, they have us," Mary Agnes replied defensively.

"This is what happens in an orphanage," Homer responded more gently. "The children will be fine."

Candy let out a shaky breath. "Okay."

"It's alright if you don't want to decide right away," said Homer. "It's a big decision."

"We've taken a room at the hotel in town. We thought it might be easier that way," said Wally. "I imagine there's a proper process to be followed."

"Well, once you've made a decision we have some paperwork to fill out. But after that you can go home with your new son. We'll take care of the rest."

"A son," Wally said with pride. "I like the sound of that."

Candy took his hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. Homer looked away from the sight, rising from his seat.

"Right now we need to go help with lunch. You're welcome to join us if you're hungry."

"Thank you, Homer, for… Well, for helping us with this," said Candy warmly. His chest swelled at the sight of her smile, which did not go unnoticed by Mary Agnes.

"We'll leave you to rest a while. If you have any more questions we can talk about them later." Homer and Mary Agnes made their way to the door.

"Mary Agnes?" Candy called out, stopping the young woman. "Thank you as well. We're glad to have met you."

Mary Agnes didn't know what to say in response, so she simply left the room in silence.

* * *

They didn't speak as they made their way upstairs. Homer stopped by his office to create a file for the adopting couple, choosing to forget about the original file on Candy that was held under her maiden name of Kendall. Mary Agnes loitered in the doorway, watching him. After a few minutes of this Homer finally raised his eyes to her.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

Mary Agnes looked away immediately, shrugging as she did so. But once his gaze returned to the paper in front of him, hers returned to him.

"They were my friends, the ones I left with that time," he answered the unspoken question.

"I know. At least, I remembered that when I saw them. I didn't realize before." Mary Agnes smiled sadly. "I never bothered to find out their names back then. I was too mad at you for leaving."

Homer let out a breath in what was an attempt at a laugh. But there was no humor in him as he closed the file and sat back in his chair, thinking about how it felt to see Candy again.

"Guess it must be nice, seeing them again," Mary Agnes prompted from the other side of the room, as if she were reading his thoughts.

"Yeah. I guess," he replied distractedly.

"You're not planning on running off again, are you?" Mary Agnes was joking, of course, but a hint of fear was evident in her voice.

Homer looked up at her properly and gave her a small smile. "No, not this time."

She was relieved, but she knew there was a level of regret in his words. Mary Agnes wasn't sure how to handle that. Homer had never revealed much of his time away from St. Cloud's – there had been too much to do upon his return. Even in the year they'd been together it was a period of his life they hadn't discussed. She had never thought to ask him much about it, so happy was she that he'd come back. But now Mary Agnes wondered if there wasn't another reason why he never talked about it, and if that reason wasn't sitting in their living room on the floor below. She couldn't pretend she didn't see the look on her husband's face when he saw Candy again. Mary Agnes knew what she was feeling wasn't jealousy; but rather she was afraid that she knew him even less than she already realized. Or that Homer would be more distant from her than he already was. A tight ball of sadness formed within her at that thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter ****4**

The children were in the middle of eating lunch when Homer ushered Wally and Candy into the dining room. Suddenly everyone was on their best behavior, cognizant of the visitors' purpose. Homer pushed Wally's wheelchair slowly down the length of the room, Candy walking beside them, as he introduced each of the children. They all smiled at the couple, some trying harder than others to win their affection, their hopes rising unwittingly at the thought of finding a new family.

"This is Charlie and Simon. And Hugo," said Homer.

Candy smiled at the children, but as they neared the end of the room the expression was slowly disappearing, leaving a hollow, haunted look in her eyes. It didn't help that Wally wanted to talk the children, ask them questions and laugh at the odd things a couple of them blurted out. She just wanted it to be over as quickly as possible.

They finally reached the last of the children, then Homer brought them back to the head table where Mary Agnes, Edna and Angela were waiting for them.

"So, what do you think?" Homer asked, not noticing Candy's shining eyes which were beginning to brim with tears.

"I think they're great," confirmed Wally, more happily than Homer had heard him since they arrived. "Honey?"

Candy tried to smile but was not quite able to do it. "They're… They're all wonderful of course."

"Did you like one of them in particular?"

She looked away, to the door rather towards the children. "Um, I don't know…"

"Well, we have to decide."

"I know, I just… I can't just choose like that. I have to think."

"But surely you have some favorites?" Wally said persistently.

"Wally, please," Candy said quietly, aware of four sets of eyes on her belonging to the St. Cloud's residents.

"What?"

"I can't do this right now. Excuse me," Candy mumbled as she walked quickly out of the room, leaving Wally gaping.

"Sorry," he said with a quick shrug. "We've been preparing for this day for months."

"It's quite alright, she just needs some time. Doesn't she, Homer?" said Angela, but Homer didn't respond. "Are you hungry, Mr. Worthington? There's sandwiches if you are."

"Ah, yeah. Yes, thank you."

The adults sat around the table, Angela attempting to engage Wally in conversation as she hated awkward silences. Homer was still looking at the door where Candy had exited.

"Just give her a minute, Homer, she'll be fine," Wally said.

"Sure. I just need to go check on some patients, then I'll be back."

"You haven't had any lunch," Mary Agnes reminded him.

"I'll have something later. You all eat without me." Homer didn't look at any of them as he left the room too.

Mary Agnes watched him go, swallowing hard. Somehow she knew the few patients they had at the moment weren't the ones on his mind.

* * *

Homer found her on the front porch. He shrugged on his coat and borrowed Mary Agnes's scarf to wrap around his neck. Outside the temperature had dropped by a couple of degrees and more snow was falling, but Candy did not look like she was coming inside any time soon. She was smoking a cigarette, inhaling quickly as her fingers were shaking from the cold. She stamped her feet repeatedly, making her blond curls bob.

"Getting some fresh air?" Homer said sardonically, nodding at her cigarette.

She nodded and offered him her packet, but he refused.

"You alright?" Homer asked.

"Sure. I just need a minute," she said, clearing her throat when her voice came out a little hoarse.

"Do you mind some company?"

"If you don't mind the cold."

"Cold? This isn't cold. You should visit in January."

They stood side by side without speaking for a few minutes, staring out over the white expanse of the orphanage yard. Candy lit another cigarette.

"Your wife's very pretty," she commented lightly.

Homer smiled slightly but he did not look at her.

"How long have you two known each other?"

"All our lives. She was raised here like me."

"Dr. Wells," she mused. "I always knew you would do something special. The way you took care of Rose Rose…"

"I just did what I was trained to do," said Homer dismissively.

"Whoever taught you did a helluva job." Candy turned to face him. "You took care of her, Homer. Cared about what happened to her. The same way you took care of me."

Homer let out a long breath which turned to smoke and fogged his view. The image of Candy's naked form flooded his memory as he recalled what it was like to be with her, how he'd never wanted anything as much as he'd wanted her.

His barely managed a murmur. "That was a long time ago."

"A lifetime," she said dully.

He finally risked a glance in her direction, but Candy was staring out over the yard once more.

"You never told Wally, did you?"

"No. I wouldn't hurt him like that." She took a drag on her cigarette. "I figured I've done penance for my sins anyway. Been punished enough for everything I've ever done."

"Candy–"

"It's not ironic that I can't children of my own after what I did the last time

I came here… it's a punishment, simple as that."

"Is that what you believe?"

Candy turned her hard gaze on him. "It's what I know."

* * *

When he returned inside after Candy decided she didn't want his company after all, Homer found Wally still in the dining room being entertained by Angela and Edna. Mary Agnes was nowhere to be found, but he suspected she was playing with the children to take their minds off the impending selection by the adopting couple. Given Candy's reaction, however, Homer wondered if there would be any adoption at all. Certainly the decision wasn't as easy as she had Wally had anticipated.

Angela and Edna excused themselves on Homer's return, a little gratefully if he wasn't mistaken. Wally looked at Homer apologetically, aware of the fuss they had caused.

"It's fine, don't worry about it. It's often like this," Homer lied. He didn't bother to tell Wally that he'd spoken to Candy outside. Instead he offered his old friend some coffee which they sipped in silence for a while.

"You're doing a good job here, Homer. Those nurses were singing your praises," said Wally.

"They do that with everyone, in case the Board of Trustees has sent a spy to make sure we aren't wasting their money."

"You ask me they could do with giving you a bit more." Wally hadn't failed to notice the rising damp or the flaking paint on the walls.

"We do alright," Homer said evenly.

"Even so, we'd like to make a donation."

"Wally, that isn't necessary–" Homer started to protest, then thought better of it. If his meeting with the Board did not go well on Thursday they would all be relying on donations to help secure a teacher.

"It may not be necessary but we'd like to do it. Regardless of what we decide," Wally said firmly. "Lord knows we can't take it with us when we die."

"You look like you're doing well for yourself," said Homer.

Wally shrugged casually, as only someone who'd grown up with money could. "We're doing okay. I've made some changes since I took over the business, and so far they've paid off."

"How's your mother?"

"She's well. Impatient for the patter of little feet," said Wally a little sadly. "This isn't the way we pictured it happening, but it's not like we have choice in the matter now."

He drained his coffee cup which Homer then refilled.

"How have you been, Wally?" asked Homer slowly, half regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

Wally let out a quiet snort. "You mean apart from never being able to walk again? Or having my ass wiped by a six foot Swedish valet every day? I've been doing great, Homer."

Homer looked away guiltily, not knowing what else to say. Wally held up his hand in an apologetic gesture.

"Sorry. It's just… I never expected to find myself here. Not like this." He looked down at his legs which were still covered in a lap rug. "You know, I used to wish I'd never made it out. The first couple of years after I got back were hell. I thought I would have been better off if… But I still have Candy. She's been a real peach about the whole thing. I couldn't ask for a more devoted wife."

Homer took a long sip of his coffee, unable to say anything.

"It's the baby," Wally murmured after a pause. "The one before… That's why this is so much harder for her. If we hadn't decided to get rid of it we would have a child of our own now."

"Wally, you were going away to war…"

"I know that. So does Candy. But she still blames herself, even though it's my fault we can't–" Wally gripped the arms of his wheelchair. "I don't mean to offend you, Homer, but adopting a child… it isn't the same. We wanted to have children that were ours, you know?"

Homer looked down at the coffee cup in his hands. "I understand."

"These are great kids and we'd be lucky to have any one of them, but…"

"It's not the same as having your own baby," Homer finished for him.

"Yeah." Wally sighed tiredly and rubbed his hand over his forehead. "But she'll be okay. We've talked about it for months, and we both want this. We'll give one of them a good home."

"I know you will," Homer said quietly in response, an idea forming in his mind. He looked over to Wally who was looking drained. "Are you alright, Wally?"

"Just tired. It's amazing how exhausted I get, sitting around all day. But ever since I got sick, I don't have the stamina any more."

"You should take a nap, we can make you up a bed."

"Nah, that's okay. We might head back to the hotel. Come back tomorrow."

Homer looked out the window at the snow which was still falling steadily. "You should stay, the road won't be safe until this storm stops."

"I don't want to put you out."

"It's no trouble."

Homer stood up and stuck his head outside the dining room where spotted Candy talking to Angela at the top of the stairs. He asked the latter to fix up one of the examining rooms for Wally, explaining his need to rest. Candy looked worriedly at Homer in case there was something he wasn't telling her, but he smiled reassuringly.

Once Wally was settled comfortably, Homer offered his hand to Candy who had emerged from the examination room. She smiled involuntarily at the gesture.

"What?" she asked coyly.

"I have someone I want you to meet."

The spark disappeared from Candy's visage. "I'm not up to meeting anyone else today, Homer."

"Trust me," he said simply and led her down the corridor.

When they arrived at the nursery Candy stopped at the doorway, her breath catching in her throat. With a squeeze of her hand, Homer urged her inside. Baby Katherine was fast asleep but Wilbur was awake, lying quietly on his back in his crib. Homer picked him up gently.

"Candy, I'd like you to meet Wilbur," he said, a smile tugging at his lips. He watched as Candy's eyes lit up and she grinned.

"He's beautiful," she breathed.

Homer handed the baby to her, careful to cradle his head as he did so. Wilbur snuggled against Candy who rocked him gently. She murmured quietly to him, telling him how adorable he was.

"He's two months old," Homer told her.

"He was just left here?"

Homer nodded.

"How could anyone leave you?" she whispered to Wilbur, and walked over to the window.

Homer left in alone for a few minutes, ostensibly checking Katherine's chart and making a few notes. Then he sidled up to Candy and touched Wilbur's forehead, checking his temperature.

"He had a cold but he's better now."

"He's perfect." Candy smiled down at the baby and didn't notice Homer's gaze.

"You know, you don't have to take one of the older boys. You could raise Wilbur here as your own."

Candy looked up in surprise, as if it hadn't occurred to her.

"I don't know… Wally and I always thought it would be easier with a child that was already walking, with the wheelchair and all." Candy looked back at Wilbur, already attached to him. "I never thought about a baby."

"Well, the choice is yours," said Homer. "Why don't you talk it over with Wally?"

Candy's eyes were misty when she looked back at Homer. "I will. Thank you."

They shared a smile, and did not hear Mary Agnes walk into the room.

"What are you doing in here?" she snapped.

Homer and Candy looked over to Mary Agnes as two angry pink spots appeared on her cheeks.

"I was just introducing Candy to Wilbur. She and Wally are going to think about adopting him," explained Homer, unaware of the reaction he was to receive.

"I don't think so." Mary Agnes strode across the room and took Wilbur roughly from Candy's arms. The abrupt movement unsettled the baby and he started howling.

"Mary Agnes, what are you doing?" said Homer, growing angry himself.

"She said she wanted one of the older boys. Not Wilbur," she retorted hotly.

Candy shrunk back and stammered an excuse to leave the room.

"No, wait," said Homer. He turned back to his wife. "You're being irrational. What is wrong with you?"

"Irrational? Is that what you think?" Mary Agnes's eyes were wild as she clutched the crying baby to her. "I think it's completely rational, considering. She's not a fit mother for Wilbur. You can't give him to her, just because she got rid of her own baby."

"Mary Agnes, that is enough," Homer said sternly. He turned to apologize to Candy, but she just shook her head and gestured that it wasn't necessary.

"I'm going to go check on Wally," she choked out, before fleeing from the room.

Homer rounded on Mary Agnes. "How could you say that?"

"I only said what was true," she replied, but was already feeling regretful over the outburst. She patted Wilbur's back to hush his crying.

"It was cruel and unnecessary."

Mary Agnes felt her throat grow tight when she realized how furious Homer was with her. He had never said a cross word to her before, and she hated seeing the disappointment in his eyes now. She own pain was masked with growing rage when she reminded herself that he was defending _her_.

"You can't just give Wilbur away," she growled.

"That's exactly what I can do. He was left here, and if Wally and Candy can give him a good home…"

"He has a home here!"

"It's not the same, and you know it. At least, you would if you'd ever been adopted. But you didn't. So don't deny Wilbur that chance just because you were never chosen."

Hot tears fell down Mary Agnes's cheeks at his words, betrayal in her eyes, causing Homer to stop. He stepped towards her but she moved away, clutching the baby to her chest.

"I won't let you give Wilbur to that woman!" Mary Agnes spat angrily.

"He's not yours!" Homer retorted.

She smiled bitterly through her tears. "Maybe not, but he's not hers either."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Mary Agnes did not speak to Homer for the remainder of the day, nor did he try and initiate any conversation with her after her harsh words to Candy. Instead he busied himself with his work, leaving Wally to rest and Candy to spend some time with baby Wilbur. He decided he didn't care what Mary Agnes thought – the idea of Wally and Candy adopting Wilbur made sense. He wasn't about to deny any of them this chance because of his wife's selfishness. He would just talk it out with her when she had calmed down and was ready to listen to reason, or so he thought. However his invitation for Wally and Candy to remain at St. Cloud's overnight because the snow storm had made it dangerous to drive only angered Mary Agnes further.

She stared daggers at him as they straightened up their bedroom which Homer had offered to the Worthingtons. Candy had protested the suggestion, claiming they would make do with an examination room, but Homer was insistent. Their valet, Karl, was offered the settee in the living room, so he would be on hand if Wally needed him. Homer assured them that he and Mary Agnes would be quite alright sleeping elsewhere on the upper floor of the orphanage. He had not anticipated how Mary Agnes would react to the offer.

She snatched up their bed quilt and stripped the sheets with vigor. He tried to help but she ripped the bedding from his hands and set about changing the linen herself. Homer sighed, suddenly forgetting his own anger towards his wife and wishing their quiet companionship would return. They rarely argued, in fact he could not remember the last time they had quarreled over anything more important than disciplining the children. The fury in Mary Agnes's eyes reminded him of her teenage years, when she appeared to hate everyone and everything in her life. She wasn't that girl anymore. And yet, here she was, ready to spit at him as soon as look at him.

"I'll sleep in the exam room," he said as she finished making up the bed. "There's a spare bed in the girls' room for you. Angela's already getting it ready."

Mary Agnes pursed her lips together and chose not to respond.

"We could hardly ask Wally and Candy to sleep upstairs. This is the only room they could stay in comfortably."

She huffed under her breath at that, balling the old sheets and dumping them into the corner of the room. She started collecting some personal effects from her dresser drawer, turning her back on him.

"Mary Agnes," he sighed.

She slammed the drawer shut.

"I don't know why you're bothering to explain now," she snapped. "You didn't bother asking my opinion before you offered them our bedroom."

"You weren't exactly in a mood to discuss things," he countered calmly, which only infuriated her further.

"And I'm just your wife, what would it matter to me? What would I care if you went and offered her Wilbur without talking it over with me first?"

"I offered one of the orphans in my care to an adopting couple!" said Homer. "Am I supposed to check all my decisions with you now?"

Her cheeks colored. "You know how much time I've been spending with him. I helped you deliver him."

"You'll help me deliver dozens of babies – is this how you're going to react every time one of them gets adopted?"

"No, you know it won't. Because not all of them will be adopted by someone you clearly have feelings for."

Homer paused in surprise before stammering, "What?"

"I have eyes, Homer. I'm not stupid. I see the way you've been looking at her ever since she arrived. It's the same way she's been looking at you. Something happened between the two of you."

"You don't know what you're talking about." He moved towards the door but she blocked his path.

"No, I don't, because you never talked about what happened when you went away. You never talk to me about anything, apart from the children and medical procedures and faulty plumbing and the roof that's needs repairing," Mary Agnes blurted out. Then her voice hardened. "But I'm your wife, Homer. I see the way you look at her. I see how unhappy she is. And now you've asked her to stay here."

"Mary Agnes, you don't know what you're talking about," he repeated quietly, shaking his head. "When you're ready to have a rational conversation about this, we'll talk."

He walked quickly from the bedroom without looking at her. Mary Agnes let out a sob of frustration and glanced around the empty room which had never felt bleaker. She gathered up her nightdress and clutched it her chest, breathing heavily as she tried to stop herself from breaking down completely.

Homer made his way upstairs, trying to erase Mary Agnes's words from his mind. He wandered the corridors of the upper floor, checking on a couple of patients. Angela and Edna had already settled the women in for the evening, and there was little else for him to do before dinner. He stopped by Wally's room to make sure he was well rested and found Candy with him, with Wilbur sleeping soundly in his arms.

"I see you two have met," Homer said with a smile.

Wally looked up with a grin. "He went right to sleep."

"I told Wally he's a natural," said Candy as she stood by the window. She looked back at Wally and Wilbur but her expression was unreadable.

"It's hard to believe anyone could leave him behind… any of them," Wally murmured, his eyes not moving from the baby.

Homer looked at his feet, then glanced at Candy. She gave him a half smile, but it only lasted a split second before she looked away.

"Have you made a decision?" asked Homer.

"Well, we still need to talk it over…" Wally sought Candy's response but she had none. "We hadn't talked about a baby."

"What about Mary Agnes?" Candy said.

"Don't worry, she's fine," Homer lied. "It was just a surprise, that's all. She's gown quite attached to him, but she's always known this could happen."

"I don't want to upset her," Candy persisted.

"You won't be, honestly. She'll be fine."

Candy did not seem convinced. She crossed over to Wally and lifted Wilbur out of his arms. "I should get him back to the nursery."

"Dinner will be ready soon. Do you need any help, Wally?" said Homer, but the offer was refused with a wave.

"Karl's around here somewhere. You've got work to do."

Candy glanced again at Homer as she passed him on her way out of the room, and he waited only a few seconds before following her out. He watched as she settled Wilbur into his crib, her feather-light touch barely touching the baby as she tucked a blanket around him. He did not stir.

"He's a little angel," she whispered.

"I meant what I said, Candy. Don't listen to Mary Agnes. I'm sorry she reacted the way she did."

Candy stood up straight and gazed steadily at Homer. "I understand. It must be hard for her, seeing another woman come in and take her child…"

"But he's not hers and she knows it," Homer persisted doggedly.

Candy responded with a smile and a shake of her head. "You may have a lot of them as patients, Homer, but you don't understand everything about women."

"Maybe not," he admitted. He certainly had little idea how to deal with his wife in her present state.

Candy's hands curled around the edge of Wilbur's crib. "Aren't you planning to have children of your own someday?"

Homer's eyebrows raised in surprise, causing Candy to blush having asked so personal a question. They had been so intimate with each other, sharing their thoughts as well as their bodies, that it slipped out before she could censor herself.

"Ah, I hadn't really thought about it," Homer said slowly.

Candy figured there was no sense in stopping now. "What about Mary Agnes?"

Homer shrugged slightly and realized he had no idea. "We already have all these children…"

"You said yourself they're not hers."

"Not in that way, but we're still their family." A puzzled frown had settled on Homer's brow.

"Like I said, you don't understand everything about women." Candy stared down at Wilbur again. "I know what it's like not to have a child of your own, Homer. It's a feeling of loss, without even knowing what's missing. Don't discount her feelings on this. I won't take him if she doesn't want me to."

Homer crossed his arms and let out a long breath. "It's not Wilbur, Candy. She's upset… It's you. And me… us. She knows."

Candy swallowed with difficulty. "Knows what?"

"About what you meant to me. What you still do," said Homer quietly.

"You told her?"

"No." Homer started towards her, but stopped when she shot him a look of warning.

She turned away and walked to the window, trying to find her voice. "What did you say?"

"Nothing. I could hardly deny it," he said. "But she knew."

Candy did not speak for several long moments.

"We shouldn't have come here," she whispered finally, her pale face reflecting in the thick window pane while outside the snowstorm continued.

A miserable lump formed in Homer's stomach at the sight of her so withdrawn and unhappy. "Why?"

"It was my fault, all of it. I betrayed Wally and then I hurt you when he came back."

He still felt the pain of Candy's choice on the rare occasions he allowed himself to think about her. But, as he did five years ago, Homer understood and accepted her decision. "You did what you needed to do, you stood by Wally."

"Oh yes, the devoted wife." She turned her tear-filled eyes on him. "But do you know how many times I wanted to leave? To go as far away as I possibly could? You have no idea, Homer. How could you? You would never have done what I did."

"I was there too, remember." Homer swallowed hard.

"It's not the same."

"Candy–"

"I almost came back here, a few years ago," she said, cutting him off. "I was going to come and find you. I packed a bag and even bought the train ticket."

"What?" Homer said, surprised.

"I just wanted to see you. I wanted you to make it better. I thought we could start again – go someplace where no one knew us…" Her gaze was imploring. "What would you have done if I had?"

"Candy, I–"

"If I had said come with me, would you have left here?" she persisted.

Homer thought about how to answer her, and in the end could only speak the truth.

"No." The word was softly spoken but there was no indecision in his tone. "I did love you, Candy. But now… my life is here."

Candy smiled and two tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. "I thought as much."

"But you didn't leave."

"No, I stayed. Things are as they should be, Homer." She stepped towards him and pressed her lips to his cheek. She lingered for a moment before pulling away. "You should go talk to your wife."

She left the nursery quickly, not trusting herself to look back.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Dinner was always noisy at St. Cloud's, but the children were louder than usual when they realized the adopting couple was staying the night at the orphanage. The table where the adults sat was visited regularly throughout the meal by children with a variety of questions or imaginary medical complaints, each of them vying for a closer look at Wally and Candy, and for the couple to get closer look at them.

Only Mary Agnes was absent from the supper table. Homer stopped Nurse Angela from going to look for her, insisting she would join them if she wanted to. Edna and Angela shared a curious glance, concerned about Mary Agnes and Homer. But both women wisely chose not pursue the matter, and did their best to keep Wally and Candy engaged in conversation when it was cleaner that Homer would not.

After dinner and an impromptu performance by several of the children who entertained their guests with a few songs and jokes, Angela and Edna insisted on readying the orphans for bed so Homer could concern himself with settling Candy and Wally in for the night. While Karl took care of Wally there was little for him to do but stand awkwardly in his sitting room with Candy, both of them struggling to make small talk.

"So, you'll talk things over with Wally?" Homer ventured. When Candy looked confused he continued, "About Wilbur, I mean."

Candy nodded, and Homer wondered fleetingly if she thought he meant telling Wally about them. Candy had always said Wally knew she couldn't be alone, and he had often wondered if Wally ever guessed that something had happened between them while he away. Part of him wished sometimes that Wally did know, if only to alleviate his own guilt. But Homer knew there was no sense dredging up the past now. Candy had made her choice a long time ago.

Homer left them as quickly as politeness would allow, and wandered the corridors of the ward, thinking, before making his way to the examination room where he was to spend the night. He was surprised to find Mary Agnes perched on the bed, waiting for him. Wondering if she was planning to argue some more, he slipped his white coat from his shoulders and folded it over the back of a chair with a sigh.

"You missed dinner," he said when she did not speak. "Chicken fricassee."

"I wasn't hungry," she muttered, her ill humor still obvious.

Homer leaned heavily against the wall next to the door. He waited.

"Why are you giving Wilbur to her?" she finally asked, chewing on the inside of one cheek. She didn't look at him.

"They want to adopt him. They're just another adopting couple."

"No, they're not," she shot back.

Homer felt defeated. He was tired of arguing with Mary Agnes, tired of feeling caught between his current life and the one he left behind.

"Are you in love with her?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper as her eyes finally met his.

"No."

"But you were," Mary Agnes insisted.

He opened his mouth to protest but the naked emotion in his wife's face gave him pause. Homer felt himself nodding before he knew what he was doing.

"It was a long time ago," he said.

Mary Agnes nodded, and fixed her gaze on the wall opposite Homer. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest.

"What happened?" she asked, clearing her throat when the words were difficult to come by.

Homer looked at the same spot on the wall as he spoke dully. "We were lonely. She missed Wally… and I mistook that need for something else. I wanted her to love me."

"She did."

Homer shook his head. "She loved Wally."

"Maybe, but she loved you too." Mary Agnes sniffed, and stood up.

She crossed the room, making for the door, but Homer placed his hand on her arm to stop her.

"Maggie–"

"I have to read to the girls," she said, her eyes downcast. "I asked Curly to read to the boys."

"Come back when you're done," Homer said, though it was phrased as a question. "Please."

"There's a spare bed for me up there, remember?"

She looked at him briefly, her expression still hurt and angry, and then she was gone.

* * *

The next morning the snow had stopped, offering them a brief reprieve. Karl was able to drive into town to retrieve the Candy and Wally's suitcases from the hotel, and returned to the orphanage. He told Wally that they should leave as soon as possible, if they were to avoid being snowed in.

"Have you decided what you'd like to do?" Homer asked, after they told him they would be departing that morning.

Candy and Wally looked at each other and smiled.

"We'd be proud to adopt him," Wally confirmed, holding out his hand for Candy.

Homer smiled too. "Good."

Candy glanced at him and the smile faded. But Homer silently assured her that he was happy for them and she was comforted enough for it to return.

"Well, I guess I should go get started on the paperwork," said Homer. "I'll ask Angela to get him ready."

"Can I help her?" Candy asked quickly.

"Sure." Homer could see the happiness in her eyes at the thought of seeing Wilbur again, of finally having the son she had wanted for so long. "I'll ask her to meet you in the nursery."

Candy squeezed Wally's hand and left the room.

"Let's make this official," Homer said, forcing himself to sound more cheerful than he felt.

"Wait a minute, Homer," said Wally, "there's something I want to talk to you about first."

Homer turned around from the door slowly, a trickle of fear in his chest. He didn't want to have it out with Wally, not now.

"I wanted to give you this."

Wally held out an envelope to Homer who took it warily. Inside he found a check.

"Wally–"

"Before you say anything, this is something Candy and I wanted to do," Wally said, cutting him off.

Homer looked up from the slip of paper. "It's too much."

"Don't tell me you can't use it, because I know you can. We can see what you're trying to do here, Homer, and we want to help."

"This is very generous of you…"

Wally shrugged the comment off. "The way I see it we owe you a lot more than that. Not only for Wilbur but for everything you've done for us, Homer."

Homer couldn't help but feel ashamed at everything Wally _didn't_ know he'd done.

"You took care of things at the orchard while I was away, so I didn't have to worry about leaving. My mother still talks about you. And Candy told me about how you helped Rose Rose."

Homer smiled, looking down at the check again.

"And I know you were there for Candy when she needed you," Wally continued, quieter now. "You were a good friend, Homer."

That was too much for him. Homer's expression saddened as he glanced up at Wally. "I don't know that I was such a good friend, Wally."

"Well, I know. I know and there's nothing more to talk about." Wally wheeled himself forward and held out his hand to Homer.

"Thank you, Wally," said Homer with difficulty. He held his hand firmly.

"Now, what do I need to sign to make this official? I'd like to take my family home."

Homer grinned, and ushered him out of the room.

* * *

The children were lined up on the porch, watching morosely as Karl helped Wally into the back of the car. Candy emerged from the orphanage front doors, baby Wilbur in her arms. A few of the children bid him goodbye, but most of them were too disappointed that he was chosen above them, and stared sadly at Candy instead.

"Come along, children," said Edna bustling them away from Candy so she could say goodbye to Homer.

"Take good care of him," Homer said, resting his hand briefly on the baby's head.

"I will." Candy held Wilbur closer against the cold air. "Goodbye, Homer."

"Goodbye."

Her eyes misted with tears as she kissed his cheek quickly. Candy had started towards the steps when Mary Agnes burst out onto the porch.

"Wait!" she gasped, trying to catch her breath. She was struggling to put on her coat while holding a cream blanket.

Candy looked startled and Homer moved to stand between them, but after a brief glance from Mary Agnes as she passed him, he stood back to watch as she moved to stand before Candy.

"You forgot his blanket," she said curtly, holding it out to her.

Candy took the blanket and a small, grateful smile appeared on her lips.

"Thank you, Mary Agnes."

Mary Agnes's gaze was transfixed on Wilbur, but then she tucked his traveling blanket around him a little closer and stood back. Candy waited in case she had something else to say, but after a brief nod from Mary Agnes, she turned and headed towards the car. Karl held the baby while she got in and then handed Wilbur in to her.

Wally rolled down his window as Karl climbed into the front seat and started the engine.

"Goodbye everyone!"

"Have a safe trip, Wally." Homer said as he walked down the steps towards the car. He leaned forward and caught a last glimpse of Candy, and waved.

There was a chorus of goodbyes as the car started slowly down the driveway.

"Come along children, everyone inside," Angela said, clapping her cold hands.

The children shuffled inside but Homer remained where he was until he couldn't see the black car anymore. A smile remained on his lips for a few more minutes as he looked out across the white yard. It had started snowing lightly again, and he stood for a moment to enjoy the simple beauty of it all. When his nose and ears could stand the cold no more he turned to go inside, to find Mary Agnes still standing on the porch.

Her hands were shoved deep into the pockets of her coat, her slender shoulders hunched forward as she tried not to shiver from the cold. Her pointed chin remained defiant as she watched him, her dark eyes narrowed. Suddenly he felt a wave of affection for her, bad mood and all. He moved towards her and placed his chapped hands against her cold cheeks. She closed her eyes involuntarily, and when she reopened them they were misty.

"Do you wish you were going with her?" she asked quietly.

"What?" His hands slipped from her face.

"If you could, if things were different, would you go with her again?"

"Mary Agnes, I'm not going anywhere."

"That's not what I asked."

Homer reached forward and took her small, balled fists in his hands. "No, I wouldn't leave. This is where I belong, here with you."

Mary Agnes looked down, despondent.

"If you're only here out of obligation, Homer…"

"I'm here because I chose to be. I married you because–"

She looked up sharply. Homer's words caught in his throat and he looked at her as if understanding her for the first time. His expression softened further.

"I do love you, Maggie. You know that, right?"

Mary Agnes's lips immediately formed a thin line as her eyes welled with tears. Homer gently thumbed away the first tear that rolled down her cheek and gave her a small smile. She hugged him tightly then, burying her face into his neck and holding on.

"I'm sorry about Wilbur," he whispered. "I didn't think about your feelings. I know he felt like yours…"

"He wasn't, not really. I know that."

Homer gently pulled her out of his arms so he could look at her.

"We never talked about having a baby of our own. I never even asked if that's what you want."

"A baby?" she asked, confused.

"It's only natural, I guess."

Mary Agnes sniffed. "I never really thought about it. I guess I always thought about all of the children as being part of us, even if they're only here for a short time. They're all the children I need. Unless… did you…?"

Homer shook his head slightly. "I feel the same way. We already have a family. But if you want to have baby, Maggie, if that would make you happy… I'd do anything to make you happy."

A smile lit up Mary Agnes's face and she wiped away the moisture from her cheeks. "You just did."

Homer returned her smile, then leaned in to capture her lips in a kiss. After a few seconds Mary Agnes pulled away with a breathy gasp.

"What's wrong?" asked Homer.

"I can't feel my feet anymore," she admitted.

He grinned and wrapped his arm around her tightly, drawing her inside into the warmth of St. Cloud's.


End file.
